


Shotgun

by CaptainLeBubbles



Series: Throwback Thursday [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, driveby doc/wash toward the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3661371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarge catches Grif and Simmons in the act and gives Grif an ultimatum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> Another throwback! Editing on this one is mostly typos, with a slight alteration to the scene at the end.
> 
> Written during the interim between s8 and s1o.

" _Grif_..." Simmons moaned and raked his hands through Grif's hair. His boyfriend was in the middle of going down on him, putting that tongue of his to better use than biting sarcasm.  
  
Grif halted in the middle of his attentions as a shotgun was cocked and pointed at his head. Simmons looked from Grif, a deer in the headlights look on his face, his mouth still around Simmons' dick, to Sarge, holding a shotgun to the back of Grif's head, an intense glare decorating his features. Sarge grabbed a handful of Grif's hair and yanked him up (Simmons was intensely glad that Grif had gone slackjawed over the situation because otherwise he'd be in a lot of pain at that moment), forcing him to turn so he was facing the CO.  
  
"So, Dirtbag, think you can corrupt my privates and get away with it?"  
  
"Um."  
  
Grif looked confused, probably because they'd been sure Sarge already knew about them. Simmons realized he was lying naked and still hard in front of his CO and hastily moved to pull his pants on, standing up beside Grif while they tried to figure out what'd got into Sarge.  
  
"You know Sarge, I'm one of your privates too," Grif was saying. Sarge continued to glare. "I don't suppose it'd change anything if I said he was the one that started it, would it?"  
  
True enough. Simmons had been the one to initiate things... this time. Sarge remained unfazed.  
  
"Listen, Sarge-"  
  
"No, Grif, you listen. I'm not having any fraternization among my troops. You wanna fraternize, you're gonna do it legit."  
  
"What?" Grif and Simmons exchanged a bewildered look. Fraternization regs? Was that what this was about? "Sarge, you do know Command probably doesn't give two shits about what- or who- we do as long as we're not causing them any trouble, right?"  
  
Sarge continued to glare. "Make up your mind, Dirtbag. Either you make an honest man out of Simmons here, or you stop fraternizing completely."  
  
Grif was silent for a long moment. Simmons held his breath, ready to grab him and run as soon as his boyfriend told Sarge what he thought of the order.  
  
"Okay."  
  
It wasn't the fuck you Simmons had expected. Grif took a deep breath and turned, taking Simmons' hands in his own and dropping to one knee. Simmons gaped.  
  
"Dick Simmons, will you marry me?"  
  
The pause lengthened and grew until it had become a long silence. Sarge and Grif stared expectantly at Simmons. Simmons just stared.  
  
" _What_? Grif? Hell no! I'm not going to marry you just because Sarge points a shotgun at your head and says you have to. And Sarge, seriously? A shotgun proposal? Could you even be more cliche?"  
  
He turned on his heel and stormed out. Behind him, he heard Sarge sigh, while Grif cursed and tried to stand up (his knee-caps had never quite recovered after his fall from the base roof), with no offer of assistance from Sarge. Simmons kept walking, through the base and out into the canyon, fully aware that he was only dressed in a pair of sweatpants and not caring at all.  
  
"Way to go, Sarge," Grif said angrily. Sarge shouldered his shotgun. "You went and ruined everything."  
  
"So you decided to go with not fraternizing anymore? Great! That's what I was hoping for."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"What was that, Private?"  
  
He waited for the "Fuck you, _sir_ " that always followed. Grif flipped him off and stormed out. Sarge frowned.  
  
"Well, that coulda gone better."  
  
~*~*~  
  
Grif pulled a small velvet box out of his dresser and flopped back onto his bunk, eying the box thoughtfully. It had seemed so simple, when he'd ordered it. It had been a whim, but he hadn't once regretted his decision- until now.  
  
~*~*~  
  
_"Hey Donut." Grif leaned over the back of the couch, startling the rookie, and dropped a small velvet box in his lap. "Tell me what you think of that."_  
  
Donut opened the box curiously. Inside was a ring. He smiled.  
  
"Well you're cute and all but you're really not my type," he teased. "Besides, I think Simmons would have my head on a platter if I said yes."  
  
"It's not for you, dumbass." Grif snatched the ring back. Donut grinned.  
  
"So when are you going to pop the question?"  
  
"I dunno yet. I'm waiting for the perfect moment."  
  
"Well, better get a move on. Even if you have to make the perfect moment yourself."  
  
~*~*~  
  
Grif turned the box over and over in his hand. Donut had been right; he'd waited too long, and now he'd screwed up. He opened the box for the umpteenth time to look at the ring inside, and then snapped it shut, an uncharacteristic look of resolve on his face.  
  
"You know what?" he asked the empty room. "I'm going to make my perfect moment."  
  
~*~*~  
  
Simmons had wandered around the canyon for a while before eventually heading back to base, resolved to tell Grif that they would be perfectly well off forgetting the whole thing. Grif wasn't around, though, so he'd grabbed a book and was now curled on the couch, waiting for him to get back.  
  
He looked up from his book as something landed on the couch next to him. He didn't have a chance to get more than a cursory look before Grif had pushed him into the back of the couch and was straddling him.  
  
"Dick Simmons, you're an idiot if you think that I would propose to you just because Sarge told me to," he said crossly. "Since when have I ever done what Sarge tells me to? Especially on the first go. _Especially_ without arguing."  
  
"Grif, what-"  
  
"You know what?" Grif carried on, ignoring Simmons' protests. "I think that's the part that sucks the most. My so-called boyfriend- who says he loves me- doesn't even know me well enough to know that I'd never do that."  
  
"Grif?"  
  
"Look in the box."  
  
Keeping half an eye on Grif, Simmons picked up the little velvet box and opened it curiously.  
  
"Oh... wow."  
  
Grif was smiling now. "It came in on the last drop, _almost a month ago_. If you don't believe me, ask Donut."  
  
Simmons had taken the ring from the box and was looking it over, noting how the light caught on it so well. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat.  
  
"Grif, I don't... if you've had this for this long... why didn't..."  
  
"I was waiting for the perfect moment. I guess I was waiting for a sign." He looked sheepish. "Honestly? I was scared you'd freak out."  
  
Simmons chuckled. "I probably would have. Grif..."  
  
"You don't have to answer yet. I mean, I just needed you to know I didn't do that because of Sarge. If you're not ready... or you don't feel like that about me... I mean, I get it, I do."  
  
"Shut up, dumbass," Simmons said, affection softening the harsh words. "Of course I'll marry you. I only said no before because I thought you were just trying to save your own skin."  
  
"Yeah right." Grif rolled his eyes, then leaned forward to nuzzle his boyfri- _fiance's_ \- neck. "I think by now I can manage to outrun Sarge and that shotgun." He nipped at Simmons' collarbone, and had a thought. "You don't think he's going to hold that shotgun on me for the whole wedding, do you? Cause he's the only one in the canyon qualified to marry people."  
  
"No idea. Can we worry about it later?" He leaned his head back, exposing more of his neck to Grif's ministrations, vaguely aware of Grif tugging his own shirt off before attacking the buttons of Simmons' shirt with gusto. "Maybe Wash is certified. He's a ranking officer, right?"  
  
The amusing image of Wash conducting a wedding was immediately driven out of his mind by a hot tongue passing over his Adam's apple while a thumb brushed over one of his nipples.  
  
"Oh, come on, guys, I watch movies on that couch!"  
  
Grif whined and slumped over, almost boneless, at Donut's outcry. Simmons, in a moment of spontaneity, hooked an arm under his legs and another under his back and stood. Grif flailed about, shocked, and Simmons would have dropped him if it hadn't been for him carrying most of the weight on his cyborg arm.  
  
"C'mon, Grif," he said. "Let's go have incredibly loud make-up sex in the holo-room."  
  
Donut frowned. "Didn't Sarge say sex wasn't allowed in the holo-room?"  
  
Grif snorted. "So?"  
  
Donut watched them leave. They were bickering before they were even out the door.  
  
"So are you going to carry me all the way to the holo-room?"  
  
"Yeah right, fatass. Holding up your weight would pull out all the seams on my arm."  
  
"But I'm lazy~"  
  
"Don't make me drop you."  
  
Donut smiled. "Congratulations, guys." He paused, and his smile turned into a grin. "I should go tell Sarge our plan worked out."

*

_Later, at Blue Base..._

Tucker barely spared Grif and Simmons a glance when the two walked into Blue base, hand in hand. The others didn't even bother looking up.  
  
"So, Grif and I are getting married," Simmons said. They looked up.  
  
"Congratulations," Doc said. "When is the date? Are we invited?"  
  
"Don't know yet, and yes. But only if you bring presents."  
  
"Grif.."  
  
"Oh, and Sarge is going to be too busy pointing a shotgun at my head to perform the ceremony himself, so we need someone else to do it."  
  
"I will," Wash said. The others stared. "What? It's a freelancer thing. We're ordained to perform marriages."

" _Why_?"

Wash shrugged. "Anyway, I'll be happy to perform the ceremony for you."

"Thanks." Simmons shook his hand gratefully. "We'll let you know as soon as we have a date set. See you guys later!"  
  
They left. Wash became aware of the look Doc was giving him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh nothing. Just imagining you in your dress uniform... and taking you out of it..."  
  
They almost tripped over Tucker on their way out of the common room.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay but imagine the guys in their dress uniforms though.
> 
> Color coordinated dress uniforms.


End file.
